this is a bad idea
by deews
Summary: Amy has crazy ideas, and Rory . . . mostly just rolls with it. / "It's a great idea, sort of, in theory, but I'm just a little concerned about the actual physics of—"


this is a bad idea.

"This is a bad idea," Rory says, kind of helplessly, because Amy has already found the umbrella in his Mum's closet and is inspecting it for the proper wingspan. "I mean, er, that is, it's a _great_ idea, in theory, but I'm just a little concerned about the actual _physics_ of—"

"Physics, shmysics," Amy cuts him off with a wave of her hand. "It'll work, Williams. If a house can be bigger on the inside and my Fat Aunt Shelly can grow a beard, then we can _definitely_ parachute off the roof with an umbrella."

Rory limply and resignedly lets himself be dragged up the stairs. "See, what you're doing is structuring your sentences as if they're logical, but then you're just substituting random things for actual proof," he points out, as he has done every time she's used this method to convince him to do something that'll probably result in another hospital trip. The last time Amy had been sure that 'if the ice cream man can sell Chaco Tacos without sprinkles, we can build a functioning bike ramp out of cardboard boxes' and as an effect, Rory had had to wear an eye patch for a month. The doctor said he was lucky it hadn't been worse.

"And anyway," Amy continues, "I saw it in a film once."

He's beginning to think he should go into medicine just so he doesn't have to pay hospital bills when he gets older.

"Okay, yes, but," Rory protests weakly, but Amy is already off, letting go of his hand in favor of pushing open his bedroom window and climbing onto the fire escape. Rory scurries after her. "Wait, Amy, this is a _really bad idea_," he says again, more urgently this time, as he's only just now realizing exactly _how high_ the roof is from the ground. "What if it doesn't work? You'll break your neck!"

"Pfffft," Amy snorts.

"Look, you have a neck, and it is breakable," Rory tells her flatly.

"Yeah, so? What are you, the_ Raggedy Doctor_?"

Rory crosses his arms over his chest. "Frankly, I'm beginning to doubt that doctor of yours really had a medical degree," he says. "And anyway, even if he did, if he were here he'd tell you not to _throw yourself off a building._"

"It's in the name of science!" Amy cries. "Think of it—we could be discovering the next new wave of transportation! We could be millionaires!"

"Alternatively, we could end up dead on the pavement," Rory counters. "I'm just saying. Maybe we should start—er—smaller? Like, jump off a fence or something?"

Amy rolls her eyes. "Small is for cowards," she announces dismissively, and moves towards the edge of the roof with purpose.

Rory sighs. He'd been afraid it would come to this, because it usually did, and because he's an idiot, and because being fourteen is the worst thing in the world when your best friend was a crazy person with no sense of self-preservation and an apparent death wish.

"Okay, Amy," he says, snatching the umbrella out of her hands as she tries to push past him. "If you're so set on doing this, at least let me go first. That way you can watch and see if any adjustments need to be made to this genius new transportation of yours."

He steps out to the very edge of the roof and concentrates on not looking down. Okay, it's a three-story building. There's grass. When this ends badly, he could totally survive. Tuck and roll, that's all. Tuck and roll. Pray you miss the driveway.

He sticks a leg out, takes a deep breath, and—

"Rory, wait—!"

But it's too late, he's already tipping towards the ground. He squeezes his eyes closed.

Two hands curl into the back of his sweater and yank him backwards. He and Amy go tumbling back and land in a heap. She groans underneath him and he rolls off quickly. "Amy! Are you all right?"

"Oi, watch the desserts, Williams, you weigh more than Fat Aunt Shelley." She sits up and rubs at her elbow.

"What—why'd you stop me?"

Amy doesn't meet his eyes. "I just didn't want you to get—" her mouth snaps shut. "I just figured, you know, whatever," she amends quickly, cheeks coloring. "Umbrella parachuting is totally lame anyway. I don't want to be remembered as the asshole that invented umbrella flying. So."

Rory smiles hard at his feet. "Yeah," he tells the roof tiles. "Totally lame."


End file.
